


Imbalance

by pointsnorth



Category: Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: F/M, hella spanking, i just realised i haven't uploaded this, it involves spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1321834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pointsnorth/pseuds/pointsnorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with a slap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imbalance

It had seemed such an odd request, really; their power dynamics weren’t opposite ends of the spectrum, but there was enough imbalance that his suggestion seemed strange to hear.

Strange, yes, but not unheeded or unwanted. That only seems to be a brilliant move when he’s sprawled over her lap, toes scrabbling on the carpet and cheek pressed against his desktop. She’s even dressed for the occasion (and he is suitably dressed _down_ ); shorts ride up her thighs so that she can feel him when he inevitably rubs against her in desperation.

What delicious desperation it is, too. Her breath catches in her throat when he spreads his legs (for _her_ ) and slurs out a plea for her to oblige his fetishes, accent and awkward angles drowning his syllables in a needy tangle. How can she refuse when he begs? Down comes a hand in a light, hesitant swat against his bare ass; the relieved noise he makes goes straight to the throb between her legs. Another, and another; the slaps resonate in his office as she gets more confident in her strikes, sending him into a helpless sort of quivering fit.

One hand gets sore. He falters in his noise when she shakes it to relieve the sting, but soon resumes his enamoured sobbing when she switches hands and uses her sore hand to slide over the cleave of his ass, between his thighs to his balls. Each smack, she squeezes and palms them just to draw out every last cry he’s capable of; still, his moans only fuel her own arousal, as does the pathetic way his untended cock bumps and leaks over her thigh.

"You’re terrible," she purrs, fingers wrapping around the underside of his cock. "Look at you being spanked by a little girl."

Ah yes, his eternal shame. Not that she’s any sort of ‘little girl’, but the guilt makes him passionate, eager to prove that she’s no Lolita.

Prove to who, she’s not sure. “You’re begging for it, Augustin. Where did you learn this? What would the other professors say about sleeping with one of your trainers?”

He just grits his teeth. God, he’s pretty when he’s trying to rein in every last emotional outburst. She’s sure that she could get off to the sight of that alone, but she wont abide that this time. 

Not that she has to. The rough bark stills her hand when he tells her to stop, watching in fear as he staggers to his feet. She’s about to ask if she’d hurt him, perhaps she’d gone too far in the whole spanking and dominating thing gosh she’s so sorry Augustin we can forget this okay? when he hauls her onto the desk (the wet spots from his running nose and eyes chill her legs).

He’s red all over, face still streaming and eyes wild and hazy as he stares down at her.

"Take off your shirt."

She does, still instilled with the sort of fear that comes when you think you’ve upset a teacher. The order comes for her to remove her shorts next; slightly more awkward, but she manages it without spilling any of his inks. He grunts approvingly, kneels between her thighs and—

_god_

his mouth, his mouth is on her all fervent adoration and guilt, sick sweet guilt upon his tongue along with her. As if he were dying of thirst, he drags her closer to his head, digs his fingers into the supple skin and breathes heat through her knickers into what feels like her very core. How she whimpers and presses him closer still with one fist in his hair, lies back on the desk and bends her legs almost double just for him.

_Just for him._

She’s just starting to get wet, he notes, almost experimentally probing into her with his tongue. Everything’s wonderfully smooth, hot against his cheek as he tilts his head and lifts her already-jerking hips just to find more and more of her.

"Aug— Auguuunnnh…"

Her head tosses in frustration as she thrusts back into his hands, desperate to ease the burning ache running through her abdomen. More half-formed pleas spill forth, but he’s intent on notching a score against his name before finishing himself off; when his tongue finds her clit, her toes _curl_ around the lip of the desktop. He’s still squeezing her ass and tracing the hard pulse of her clit when she orgasms, shuddering and gasping like a magikarp for a few seconds.

There’s silence for a few more seconds after as he stands and cleans his lips, waits for her to regain her breath. Her own climax had shot some life back into his slowly-flagging erection, and be damned if he’d let all her hard work go to waste. So she welcomes him with open arms, gladly wrapping her legs around his waist as he bends to kiss her and take the last oversensitive sting away. When he finally slides inside of her, she clenches around him, hips rolling up to draw him in deeper; he wonders idly where she learns these little tricks before dismissing any thought that doesn’t revolve around how wet and warm and _perfect_ it is inside of her. Even as he fucks her deep, slowly to keep the embers of desire still hot, she guides one hand to her chest with a sigh.

He needs no more prompting than that to slide her bra up and free her breasts, pinching and rubbing at one nipple as his hips begin to move faster. It relights her, sets her aglow as she clings to him and claws frantically at his back while he bites fiercely at her neck and whispers

no, purrs

into her ear about how the other professors don’t need to know anything about anything, they couldn’t make her moan yes, yes just like that god louder, how terrible is it to seduce a poor innocent older gentleman like himself with her perfect little breasts and her _beautiful_ ass mon dieu it’s a crime really, to let her go unloved and unfucked and they wouldn’t know shit about beautiful girls anyway.

His voice is rough and low between fierce kisses, bruising bites at her neck and shoulders; her throat is raw now from how he moves inside of her and drags her voice out against her will. 

Underneath them, the desk begins to creak.


End file.
